


I'm between your past and your future right now...No ending, you're my heartbeat.

by myheartandsoulbelongtonamjoon



Category: GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, Friendship/Love, M/M, Self-Discovery, Sons of Anarchy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 22:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14318427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheartandsoulbelongtonamjoon/pseuds/myheartandsoulbelongtonamjoon
Summary: Jimin had run away from his hometown, trying to leave his past behind and start again. When he learns of his father's death, his world turns upside down, leading him back to Charming, North Carolina and somehow right back into the arms of the leader of the resident motorcycle gang--Namjoon.





	I'm between your past and your future right now...No ending, you're my heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m a big fan of the show, Sons of Anarchy, and writing this was great fun.
> 
> For those who don’t know of the series or the storyline basically SAMCRO or the Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club are a gang who rule the fictitious town of Charming, North Carolina. And that’s really all you need to know! The rest will be explained in the story. 
> 
> *song title comes from BTS' Don't Leave Me
> 
> Enjoy, darlings!

 

Jimin took a deep breath as he pulled his old Cutlass into the achingly familiar driveway. It was official. He had returned to Charming, North Carolina, his hometown and the one place he swore he’d never set foot in again. To be fair, he’d said that in spite more than six years ago when he was still a rebellious teenager caught in a shitstorm and wishing for a hail mary. That had come with his acceptance letter to UCLA, when he quickly packed his bags and took the first bus out of Charming. His father had told him before he left that all he’d ever wanted was his happiness.

 

‘That’s something I’ll only find if I get the hell out of this black hole,’ he’d said and his father didn’t try to say anything else to make him stay.

 

When he’d finally gotten on his bus and thrust his bags under his seat, throwing his body back into the polyester-lined chair, he could have sworn he saw  _ him _ pulling up in his favorite Harley, stationing the motorcycle near the road and simply waiting. The last thing Jimin saw before his hometown faded in the background was a flash of Namjoon’s face when he removed his dark sunglasses to wipe at his eyes. He had been crying.

* * *

 

 

Jimin unlocked the front door, having to use a little effort to move the ancient-looking wood, and sat his bags down, staring into the dark stillness. It was official--he was completely alone in this world. His mother had drank herself to an early death when he was 9 years old and his father had been sick for the last few years. Jimin was debating whether to drive down to visit him when he received the phone call from the local St. Thomas Hospital to inform him that his father had passed away. 

 

Jimin had been living in Chicago at that time, a recent graduate of the Feinberg Medical School at Northwestern University. He was 25 years old and fielding offers from many prestigious hospitals to do her residency after being lauded as a rising star during his first year at Chicago Presbyterian as an intern. He was dating a great guy, a paramedic named Taemin, and they were planning to go away together around Christmas for a couples’ vacation. Taemin had suggested Aruba and Jimin was leaning more towards Jamaica, but his boyfriend had playfully asked if they couldn’t do both so they were checking their budgets. Things seemed to be going perfectly. And yet…

 

And yet every time Jimin got out of the shower and shuffled to his closet to pick out an outfit for the day he’d stop at the flash of ink in his floor-length mirror. He knew he could just have the tattoo removed, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The obsidian crow on his lower back mocked him, reminding him of a wild adolescence he had barely survived, but at the same time it represented a story he would treasure for the rest of his life. His and Namjoon’s love story.

 

Jimin couldn’t admit to himself that when he heard about his father’s passing, the first thing his thoughts turned to wasn’t the gloomy funeral and the exorbitant expenses that always came with it. Instead, his mind raced to Namjoon and what it would be like to see him again. Had he changed very much? Was he still angry Jimin had left him and the rest of the Sons? Did he still love him?

 

He was startled out of his silent contemplation by the shrill sound of his ringtone. He pulled his phone from his jeans pocket and glanced down at the screen. He sighed, seeing his ex-boyfriend’s name.

 

“Taemin. Hey,” he answered, ensuring that his voice came out calm and collected.

 

“Did you get home safe?”

 

“I did. Just walked through the front door, actually.”

 

“Oh, so you haven’t gotten to see your father yet?”

 

Jimin’s eyes closed at the mention of his father and the corpse he’d eventually have to preside over since the funeral home had asked him to stop by as soon as he arrived. They wanted to finalize some small details before the funeral the next day.

 

“Uh, no,” he cleared his throat. “Not yet.”

 

“...I miss you.”

 

Jimin let out a deep exhale.

 

“I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth. I’ve accepted our break-up, but I can’t move on from you, Jimin. I...I love you. I’m so completely in love with you.”

 

Jimin didn’t know what--if any--were the right words to say he didn’t feel the same. He had told Taemin he needed time to himself and that he was moving back to his hometown to work in the local hospital because he had to reconnect with his roots after running away for so long. When Taemin had offered to go with him, Jimin hadn’t hesitated to say no. He couldn’t fathom a scenario where Taemin was in the same town as the life he’d once led, as well as a certain someone who would  _ not  _ appreciate Jimin strolling back into Charming with another man. And screw Jimin for even caring what freaking Namjoon would think. 

 

“I guess your silence is all the answer I need, huh?” Taemin gave a weak chuckle. “Was I not good enough for you, Jiminie?”

 

“No! That--that wasn’t the issue. You’re an incredible person and we had a wonderful year together. I was content, I swear.”

 

“Content?” Taemin repeated in a broken voice. “I understand now...Your feelings for me weren’t as strong as mine for you. They never were, were they? I should have seen it. Stupid me, blinded by love.”

  
“I did have feelings for you! Maybe I wasn’t ready to confess love, but eventually I would have been. The timing wasn’t right, that’s all.”

  
“No, Jimin. If you summed up a year together as making you ‘content’ then it wasn’t the timing that was wrong. It was us. You didn’t give me your whole heart. You couldn't. And you know why?”

 

Jimin waited with bated breath, praying Taemin wouldn’t say the words he was afraid to hear, but knowing they were coming anyway.

 

“Because you’ve already given your heart to someone else. And I would bet that someone is in the same town you are right now.”

 

“Taemin...I’m sorry.”

 

“I know, Jiminie. I’m sorry too. I called to make sure you arrived safely. And you did. I won’t call again, at least not until I find a way to...recover from this. Goodbye.”

 

“Bye,” he whispered, keeping the phone clutched to his ear even after his ex had long since hung up.

* * *

 

 

The funeral home had been as dismal as Jimin remembered from childhood when he’d been dragged along by his father’s trembling hand to pick out the most economic casket in which to bury his mother. This time he was alone and laying his other parent to rest. He’d left all the friends he’d made in Chicago, as well as the colleagues he’d grown to like and depend on--all because of what? A moment of self-doubt? Did his father’s death really lead him to drop the life he’d created for himself and rush back to the town that had seen him at his absolute worst? Or, perhaps, was the real reason for his return a deeper, darker thing? 

Jimin waged this internal war with himself as he nodded along to what the funeral director was rattling off. Everything had been planned by his own father and he had departed without any debts, meaning that he had financed his own funeral because to his last breath he was thinking of his only child and ensuring that no burden was placed on his shoulders. Jimin had loved his father, adored him, but his childhood had been pretty messed up on account of his mother’s alcoholism and at one point heroin addiction. His father worked a lot and often went away on business and who was left at home, completely vulnerable to his mother’s insanity? Little Jimin.

 

Jimin couldn’t help but blame his father for making him the sole witness to his mother’s self-destruction and Jimin himself had been the one to find his mother, belly-up on the living-room floor, already choking on her own vomit, a needle haphazardly thrust into one of her arms. He hadn’t been able to do anything but watch her final seconds of struggle. 

 

After her death his father tried to travel less, but it was difficult for the two of them to connect with each other, his mother’s ghost seeming to get in the way even then. Jimin stopped spending any time at home anyway because that same year a tall, golden-skinned boy with a predilection for wearing anything made from leather moved to Charming and Jimin’s world would never be the same.

 

“We’ll see you tomorrow then. Again, we’re sorry for your loss,” the funeral director was saying.

 

Jimin nodded and took the hand that was offered to him, shaking it mechanically before zipping up his jacket and heading for the exit, desperate for air that didn’t stink of formaldehyde and mothballs. He stepped outside, breathing in the evening breeze and was three steps into the parking lot when he realized there was a svelte figure, dressed in black from the sunglasses resting on his head to the heavy boots on his feet, leaning against the side of his car.

 

“Namjoon,” he breathed.

 

“Jimin. Long time no see. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. Your father was a good man.”

 

Jimin had crossed the distance between them in less steps than he’d expected and suddenly he was staring up at the man he’d once vowed to love for the rest of his days. He looked into Namjoon’s dark brown eyes and he drowned in a collection of memories he relived as intensely as the first time.

 

“I’d like it if we went somewhere to catch up. Do you have some time to spare for me?”

 

Jimin wondered what it said about him that it took longer for him to blink than it did for his automatic response--a breathless “Yes.”

* * *

 

 

Jimin didn’t ask where Namjoon’s bike was. He simply drove them to the spot they frequented in their high school days when life threw too much shit their way and they could only find solace in each other and in the tranquility of the ocean waves hitting the shoreline. 

 

“How did you know? That I was back?” Jimin clarified once he parked his car.

 

Namjoon unbuckled his seatbelt.

 

“Let’s sit on the beach,” he said instead and Jimin blinked dazedly, watching Namjoon step out of the car and calmly walk onto the beach.

 

He hurried to lock his car and jogged to catch up to the other’s longer strides.

 

“Here,” Namjoon shrugged off his bomber jacket and lay it out on the sand, gesturing for Jimin to take a seat.

 

“Oh no, I don’t want to get your jacket dirty.”

 

“Chim,” he snorted. “Just sit down.”

 

Jimin immediately sat, bewildered by the impact the old nickname still had on him. Namjoon plopped down beside him, jostling him a bit as he made himself comfortable. The space between them was practically nonexistent and Jimin was hyper aware of every part of their bodies that was now touching, from thigh to shoulder. He could also smell Namjoon’s signature scent--a mix of his oaky cologne and the mint soap Yoongi had hooked him on years ago. 

 

Namjoon looked the same--well not exactly the same. The passage of time seemed only to sharpen and perfect his masculine features, giving his jaw a more chiseled look and his body a stronger frame where as a teenager he had looked more lanky. One thing that was distinctly dissimilar, however, was

 

“You dyed your hair,” Jimin blurted out, eyes fixed on the tousled dark blonde waves.

 

“So did you,” Namjoon chuckled. “It’s almost like we coordinated it. You make a gorgeous blonde, though the same could be said for you as a brunette.”

 

Jimin blushed, hoping the early night sky would make it less obvious.

 

“Ah, thanks...You, uh, you didn’t answer my question before.”

 

“Hmm, which question was that?”   
  


  
“Don’t play dumb. We both know that’s the last word to describe you.”

 

“And what sort of words would you use then?” he grinned, unabashedly aiming to charm Jimin and have him under his spell once again.

 

“I’m thinking  _ arrogant _ ,  _ short-tempered _ , and  _ reckless _ . That’s about right,” he remarked snippily to which Namjoon only raised a brow and burst into boisterous laughter.

 

“I’m pleased you haven’t lost your feisty nature, Chim. It was always my favorite thing about you. That and your tight, sculpted by the gods a--”

 

“Namjoon!” he interrupted, feeling his cheeks heat at the direction Namjoon’s sentence was going. “We are not going to talk about any parts of our anatomy tonight.”

 

“What about tomorrow night?” he winked lasciviously.

 

“Be serious, damn it!”   
  


  
“Relax, Chim, I was trying to lighten the mood.”

 

“And why do you keep calling me that!”

 

Namjoon tilted his head as he observed him, carefully and unhurriedly, making Jimin squirm a bit in his seat.

 

“It’s what I’ve always called you.”

 

“When we were kids, sure. That’s not me anymore. I’m Dr. Jimin Park now.”

 

“I see.”

 

Jimin swallowed, the sound loud in the sudden silence stretching between them.

 

“Who are you?” 

 

“What?” Jimin asked, not expecting the question nor the melancholy tone Namjoon was using.   
  


  
“You said you weren’t Chim anymore, which I guess means you want me to forget all about the boy I knew.”

 

“I outgrew that boy, Namjoon. I had to, don’t you understand that? Leaving Charming took all the strength of will I had, but I had to do it. This place would have eaten me alive…like it did my mom. The day I left, it was a week after I got arrested--for the third time. Spending the night in that grimy jail cell, I knew things would only escalate. SAMCRO would take over my life, ask me to sell my soul, and I wasn’t willing to do that. Not--not even f-for you,” the final phrase was difficult to voice, but he stuttered his way through it, gaze dropping to where his hands were fidgeting in his lap.

 

Namjoon took in his words, pausing to collect his thoughts before he spoke again.

 

“After you left, my life fell apart. My old man led the Sons into an ugly turf war with the Mexicans. There wasn’t enough dirty drug money for all of us, I suppose...We won the war at high costs. Most of the original members were wiped out, my dad included. My mom couldn’t handle it, slit her wrists in the bathtub one night while I was out. Cops descended upon Charming like vultures. The Sons were shut down for almost a year. When the heat died down some of the other chapters reached out to the few original members, promising to help them rebuild. It was going to be the same shit all over again, though. More shady drug deals and arms trafficking. More dead bodies.”

 

Jimin listened, transfixed, as Namjoon filled him in on the 6 years he’d missed. An unsettling feeling of guilt weighed him down, knowing now how much Namjoon had suffered when he’d been partying with frat boys and studying for exams without another care in the world. It wasn’t his fault, of course, but pain radiated from the taller man’s tense form and overshadowed his handsome features and Jimin couldn’t pretend he wasn’t affected by Namjoon’s emotions. 

 

“I stepped in. Took over SAMCRO before the old bastards could screw us all over again. They weren’t pleased. There were 4 original members left, but by the time I got my place at the head of the table there was only 1.”

 

“Did--did you…” Jimin knew what the answer was, didn’t want to ask the question, yet needed the confirmation.

 

“I killed them. I had to. The turf war led to the deaths of so many innocents--in Charming and in other towns. The only way to effect change was to take drastic measures. The last guy was too sick to fight me for control. He fled the town, fled the country I think. He was the suspect of more than a few cases of grand larceny and homicide. I restructured the Sons, tapped in all the prospects I believed would contribute to a better legacy. There were only 8 men I really trusted to have my back. I only took over two years ago. I’m still dealing with a lot of shit and the other chapters try to pressure me to find more money in illicit operations, but I refuse. We’re clean now, make our money on the books.”

 

Jimin was still reeling with Namjoon’s admission of murder, but he found his voice again to ask what exactly he meant by being “clean.”

 

“We’re the best auto-mechanic shop in the county and I’d be bold enough to say in the state. I’ve never seen anyone fix a car as immaculately as Jin can. And guys drive for days to get Jungkook’s golden hands on their motorcycles. Kid’s got a gift. The shop’s good business, but we also have...the true money-maker.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“Porn.”

 

“ _ Porn _ ?”

 

“Yep. We hired a very professional staff of the most beautiful porn stars--male and female, we cater to all sexual desires. Our company is called  _ Dicks and Dolls _ . I thought we could come up with a better name, but you know how stubborn Yoongi can be. I mean Hoseok came up with it, but Yoongi’s so fucking whipped, there was no way he was going against his boyfriend’s idea.”

 

“They’re still together?”

 

“Going on 10 years,” Namjoon smiled proudly at the mention of their friends--well  _ his _ friends. 

 

Jimin wasn’t sure if he had a right to call them his friends anymore. He stared out at the ocean, processing everything Namjoon had told him. More than ten minutes went by in silence until Namjoon finally turned to him and broke the quiet.

 

“Chim--Jimin,” he amended. “You asked how I knew you were back in Charming. And I’ll tell you. I followed your career--from your years at UCLA to when you were accepted at Northwestern for medical school.”

 

Jimin’s jaw dropped.

 

“How did you--how could you know all of that?”

 

“I called your father all the time. Showed up on his front porch unannounced. It was lucky he liked me so much,” he gave a small chuckle. “But, even he lost contact with you after you moved to Chicago. You stopped calling, stopped emailing, stopped everything. I had to reach out to contacts in the Northeast, people who’d known my father or knew about me and the Sons. Eventually, I found guys who were willing to help me. PI’s, retired cops, that type. They found you and reported back to me. I never asked for anything more than a confirmation that you were alright. That you were happy. I heard about your boyfriend...Does he make you happy?”

 

Jimin ran a hand through his hair and let out a sharp breath.

 

“We broke up, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” his words came out harsher than he intended, but the idea of Namjoon checking up on him had his blood boiling.

 

“I didn’t. I promise I didn’t pry into anything. I asked my contacts to inform me if anything went wrong, but I asked for the most basic details. No one was stalking you or sending me grainy photos of you walking home. I wasn’t trying to drag you back to Charming or back to me. I knew I had no right to interfere in your life.”

 

“No, you didn’t.”

 

“...I’m sorry. For invading your privacy however minimally and for the breakup. Are you okay?”

 

“I will be. My life fell off the rails with my father’s death, but I just need time.”

 

“If you need space I can give it to you. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable with my presence and I’ll make sure none of the guys do either. I came to see you today because...Because honestly I couldn’t help myself. But, I’ll leave you alone. I was going to attend the funeral tomorrow, but if you don’t want me there I understand. I’ll pay my respects some other time.”

 

“No, you don’t have to. You were close with my father--closer than I was probably. He would have wanted you there.”

 

Namjoon nodded, waiting another minute before asking the question that was burning him up from the inside.

 

“Will I be able to see you again?”

 

“After the funeral?”

 

“If you’re moving back permanently...I just, I know I want to. More than anything, but do you want to see me again?”

 

Jimin sighed.

 

“I don’t know. I need to think about things. I appreciate your honesty, I mean you’ve always been like that. You never kept things from me, but this? It’s a lot for me to process. You taking over SAMCRO and killing people to do it... You becoming some porn industry king.”

 

“I get it. Really, I do,” Namjoon stood up, shaking some sand off his black jeans and looking down at Jimin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jimin. Anything else is up to you. If you need me for any reason at all, don’t hesitate to call.  I’ll always be there for you. I swear it.”

 

Jimin’s heart jumped in his chest, the prospect of Namjoon walking away from him becoming a painful reality he didn’t think he was ready for.

 

“You’re leaving?”

 

“It’s getting late and I’m looking at a long walk back. My bike’s in the shop.”

 

“I can give you a ride.”

 

“Thanks, but I’ll just call Jackson, tell him to pick me up. It’s not like he’s doing anything more productive than drinking his ass off or enjoying the SAMCRO discount at Dicks and Dolls. We’re allowed to film our own videos with any of the porn stars. No one takes advantage of that more than Jackson...except maybe Bam Bam. What a whore he is,” Namjoon shook his head fondly.

 

“Ah, okay. I should head back home too. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow,” he stood, picking up Namjoon’s jacket and shaking the sand free before offering it to the older man.

 

“Keep it. God knows I have enough black jackets,” he grinned.

 

“No, but you probably need it anyway.”

 

“Nah. Plus, I know how much you love oversized clothing and you’ll look cute. Just keep it.”

 

Jimin’s face heated up for what felt like the tenth time that night and he mumbled a thank you.

 

“Good night, Jimin.”

 

“Good night, Namjoon.”

 

And he was left staring after the boy he had once loved, comparing him to the man he had spent the last few hours with. A part of Jimin knew he wasn’t speaking in the past. Not at all. He loved Namjoon. Now, and like he’d bashfully murmured as a teenager, “forever more.”

* * *

 

 

The funeral had been a draining affair. Jimin had opted not to give the eulogy and left that to one of his father’s closest friends, who told a funny anecdote about the time they’d gone fishing and Jimin’s father had accidentally pushed their bucket of bait overboard, ending the day’s activities five hours short. It was an odd feeling to hear stories about a man who Jimin should have known like the back of his hand, or at least have the right to say he understood well, when the reality was the complete opposite. The man being lauded for his unique sense of humor and clumsy behavior wasn’t Jimin’s father--not to him. Because he had only known him as the man whose back he was constantly watching leave him behind. 

 

Later, as the casket was lowered carefully into the ground, Jimin stared into the dark recesses of the hole and wondered when his turn would come. Morbidly, he pondered if his funeral would be half as attended as his father’s, who had been good friends with most of Charming. Jimin would guess not. He’d be lucky if Taemin and a couple of his college friends showed up. And Namjoon? Jimin wouldn’t blame him for skipping out on it.

 

“Would you like someone to drive you home, Mr. Park?” the priest had shuffled over to him, speaking quietly, perhaps so he wouldn’t disturb the dead.

 

“ _ He  _ was Mr. Park. That’s not me. Call me Dr. Park,” he corrected, knowing he sounded like a childish brat but unable to apologize for it.

 

“Apologies. Dr. Park, did you want me to call someone...or are you remaining here a while longer? I could order you a cab or--”

 

“I’ll take him home,” a deep voice interrupted and they both turned to see Namjoon approaching, his motorcycle gleaming under the potent rays of the midday sun.

 

“Namjoon,” the priest’s tone did nothing to hide his contempt for the younger man. “I didn’t think your kind were allowed on hallowed ground.”

 

Namjoon chuckled, not at all put off by the middle-aged priest’s acerbic words.

 

“Don’t worry, Father, God and I have an agreement. He lets me walk past graveyards and enter his churches without bursting into flames and when the time comes, I’ll let him send my damned soul right down to hell where it belongs,” his grin was all teeth and the priest’s jaw dropped at the sacrilegious language.

 

“How dare you?! The condemnation of a human soul is not a joke and if you don’t watch yourself, you  _ will  _ end up in hell. Just like your father,” he spat.

 

Namjoon’s expression darkened. One moment he was the epitome of young and carefree, the next he was radiating pure lethality. Jimin gulped and the menacing look wasn’t even directed at him. Beside him, the priest shifted under Namjoon’s glare, wisely deciding it was time for him to head back to his parrish. He mumbled a farewell and “peace be with you, son,” to Jimin before departing. 

 

“Is it really the best idea for you to be making enemies out of a member of the clergy?” Jimin finally said and Namjoon laughed, features once again open and relaxed.

 

It was impressive how quickly he could do that.

 

“I’m not always as logical as you are, remember? My temper can get the best of me.”

 

“How old are you now? ‘Cause I think that’s something you should have been working on.”

 

Namjoon shrugged. 

 

“I usually had you to moderate me. The cooling water to my reckless flame.”

 

“I shudder to think how you managed without me,” Jimin threw the words out carelessly, not expecting Namjoon’s eyes to mist over.

 

“I didn’t.”

 

The silence stretched between them, heavy and loaded with thoughts and emotions they weren’t ready to reveal to each other, until Namjoon cleared his throat and stepped closer to Jimin, moving around him to crouch by the freshly-filled grave and place a single hydrangea at the base of the tombstone.

 

“These were his favorite flowers. Said it reminded him of growing up in Busan and spending entire summers in the sea with his brothers.”

 

“Hydrangeas are my favorite too...I didn’t know we had that in common.”

 

“You were more similar than you think. He was a great man and you’ve developed into an amazing one. He would be proud of you, Jimin.”

 

The tears he hadn’t let himself shed suddenly burst forward until he was doubled over with grief. 

 

“I didn’t l-let him g-get to know me. I was a t-terrible s-son,” he gasped through his sobs.

 

Namjoon rushed to embrace him, pulling his smaller frame so close Jimin’s moist face was buried into the crook of his neck. 

 

“That’s not true,” Namjoon whispered, rubbing his back.

 

“I-I’m an o-orphan now. I h-have nothing left. No one l-left,” he cried.

 

“You know that is  _ not  _ true,” Namjoon responded vehemently.

 

Jimin lifted his face from Namjoon’s neck and stared up at him, fresh tears continuing to spring forward. 

 

“Do you hate me?”

 

“I could never hate you, Jimin. Never,” he wiped the tears away with more gentleness than Jimin could remember receiving in many years.

 

“I don’t want to be alone today,” he mumbled shyly.

 

“You don’t have to be. The Sons are gathered at The Crow. We were going to have a few drinks and toast to the memory of your dad. Do you want to join us?”

 

Jimin considered the question. Did he want to jump back into life in Charming, specifically life alongside SAMCRO? Was he ready to see all the faces of the people he’d left behind? 

 

Taehyung, his best friend, the first person he told about the crisis surrounding his sexual orientation. And Taehyung had only grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, promising him he’d help him find the best husband in the world if he so wanted because who the hell cared what gender Jimin was attracted to as long as he was happy? 

 

Yoongi and Hoseok, the perfect couple and their shining example of love since the start of high school. If ever a pair of people could embody the phrase “opposites attract” it was them. Hoseok was sunshine and rainbows beside Yoongi’s gloomy, “fuck all” persona. But they worked. They balanced each other out, ensuring that together they were stronger than they could ever be apart. They’d gone on double dates with him and Namjoon. He remembered late-night drives throwing back shots of Jager and chasing it down with popsicles because the summer was stifling and they were four adolescent idiots. 

 

Seokjin, the eldest of their little group and Jungkook, his little brother and the youngest of the SAMCRO prospects. Both were loud and outrageously hilarious, able to energize the group and remind them to let loose every once in a while. Jimin was always hopelessly devoted to Jungkook, taking him in as the younger sibling he’d never had. He would shower him with affection and only laugh delightedly when Jungkook embarrassedly shoved him away or told him to stop “bothering” him. That was their dynamic. Jimin missed it. He missed all of them.

 

Namjoon had mentioned that there were now 9 young SAMCRO members and he knew the 5 he’d grown up with, but only had brief recollections of the two names he’d thrown out--Jackson and Bam Bam. Jackson was captain of their football team and Bam Bam was his best friend. They were nice enough, but Jimin had always been secretly threatened by Jackson’s effortlessly charming personality and good lucks, especially since he hadn’t even tried to hide the crush he had on Namjoon. Luckily--for Jimin--Namjoon had never shown interest and from the moment he moved to Charming his attentions were focused solely on Jimin.

 

However, he was aware that 6 years had passed. He had engaged in his share of relationships, as well as one-night stands. He could only assume Namjoon had done the same. He didn’t know if he had the courage to ask him if he was seeing anyone.

 

“Jimin?” Namjoon asked again, voice soft and tentative.

 

“I, uh, I’d like that. If the others don’t mind, of course,” Jimin added at the end.

 

“Don’t worry about the others,” he smiled encouragingly. “Let’s go then. We can stop by your house so you can change out of your suit. You don’t want to wear that to The Crow.”

 

“Definitely not. I’ll come out sporting beer stains and stale vomit. Not so fashionable, I think.”

 

Namjoon chuckled, wiping at the final tears marking Jimin’s face. He’d been able to compose himself as their conversation progressed and he could only attribute that to Namjoon’s presence.

 

“Did you bring your car? I can drive us back.”

 

Jimin shook his head.

 

“I didn’t. I came with a neighbor, but your bike’s right there, isn’t it?”

 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want that.”

 

“It’s been 6 years, not a century and a half. I haven’t forgotten what a ride on a Harley feels like. Trust me.”

 

“You’re still you,” Namjoon chuckled, making Jimin duck his head.

 

“In some ways.”

 

“In the ways that matter,” he assured him. “Let’s get going. I don’t want those clowns to get shit-faced without me there to supervise. They swear they know how to hold their liquor, but nearly every time I’m left having to throw Taehyung over my shoulder and walk his drunk ass home.”

 

Jimin laughed. 

 

“Taehyung was always a terrible drunk.”

 

“You know, he wanted to come with me yesterday. I told them you were back and Taehyung was dying to see you. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to overwhelm you, though, so I came alone.”

 

“Thanks. I think you made the right call. I-I want to see him though. It’s time.”

 

Namjoon led the way to his motorcycle, handing Jimin the spare helmet and waiting for him to settle in.

 

“Hold on tight. I don’t want your tiny self to get blown away by the wind.”

 

Jimin punched him in the back, making him chuckle good-naturedly.

 

“You still pack quite the punch. I taught you well.”

 

“Shut up and drive, Namjoon. You talk too much.”

 

The taller blonde burst into raucous laughter, revving the engine and taking off in the direction of Jimin’s house. Neither could deny how  _ right  _ it felt to be together again, even if the past continued to linger between them, threatening to explode at any moment.   


* * *

 

 

When Namjoon and Jimin stepped through the doors of the bar, the boisterous shouts and off-key singing abruptly stopped, leaving them in a silence so prominent Jimin was aware of how loudly his regular breathing was.

 

He tensed at Namjoon’s side, unable to look up into the sea of faces for fear that he’d land on one heartbreakingly familiar one and see something he didn’t want to see--mainly loathing and disgust. 

 

“Minnie!” a loud voice shouted, swiftly followed by the appearance of a lanky man with a boxy smile and pearly white teeth. “You’ve come back to me!”

 

The dramatic declaration was coupled with a dash forward, so that Taehyung crossed the distance from his seat at the back of the bar to Jimin in mere seconds, pulling him into one of his bone-crushing hugs.

 

“Tae-Tae,” he reverted to the names they’d used as kids, eyes closing as he let himself be wrapped up in his best friend’s embrace. “It’s good to see you.”

 

“I’m so happy to see you again! We stopped by the funeral service, but our great leader here said we had to scram soon after. He told us it was to give you space to breathe, but I suspect it’s because he wanted you all to himself. Selfish bastard,” he joked, releasing Jimin when Namjoon delivered a smack to the back of his head. “Ow!”

 

“You’ve both hogged him enough. Let me see him,” Jin pushed through the crowd of the packed bar and nudged Namjoon and Taehyung out of the way. “Look at you! You grew up so well,” he squeezed Jimin’s cheeks, making him groan and swat the hands away.

 

“Stop it, I’m not a baby.”

 

“Yeah, but you’ve gotta understand why people get confused. You’re like 2 feet tall,” another voice chimed in.

  
“Jungkook,” Jimin growled. 

 

“Jimin! Always a pleasure,” the youngest member winked.

 

“Jin’s right, you really came into your own. Not that you weren’t attractive as a teen, but well...time’s helped you out!” Hoseok snickered, coming closer to pull Jimin into a tight hug.

 

“Screw you, Hobi. I see no amount of time can fix that horse face.”

 

“Ooohhh,” Jungkook and Taehyung chorused.

 

“Careful, not only am I your elder, but I carry more than one weapon on my person. Don’t make me shoot that pretty face.”

 

“Namjoon wouldn’t let you,” he stuck out his tongue.

 

Hoseok was grinning, opening his mouth to respond when a gruff voice cut him off.

 

“He should.”

 

Jimin watched Yoongi throw back his beer and slide it across the counter before walking over, his gait lazy but purposeful.

 

“Yoongi,” Hoseok said warningly, but his boyfriend ignored him.

 

“We didn’t think you’d ever come back. Now that you have I’m wondering why you didn’t stay gone. Did there have to be a rotting corpse to get you back to Charming?”

 

Jimin flinched at the sharp words.  


 

“I left to make something of myself.”

 

“Oh yeah? And what did you bring back with you? Some shiny diplomas and an even higher horse to look down on us from?”

 

It looked like Yoongi was ready to spit harsher insults from the way he puffed up his chest and took a deep breath, but Namjoon stepped between them, staring the white-haired man down.

 

“Not another word. Jimin attended his father’s funeral mere hours ago. Have you forgotten that?”

 

“We’ve had to attend dozens of funerals in the 6 years he’s been gone. So fucking what?”

 

“Watch your tone, Yoongi. I won’t allow you to disrespect me or Jimin. If you have nothing nice to say, keep your fucking mouth shut,” he ordered.

 

Yoongi prickled at the way Namjoon lorded his authority over him, but he knew he couldn’t oppose him, not unless he wanted a violent fistfight with his leader.

 

“Whatever. I’m leaving,” he grumbled, pushing past Jimin with more force than was really necessary.

 

“Sorry,” Hoseok whispered, following after his raging boyfriend.

 

“...That was tense as fuck. I need like 6 tequila shots to get my good vibes back,” Taehyung piped up.

 

“You can’t handle 3 tequila shots, dumbass,” Jungkook snorted.

 

“Try me, bitch,” he shoved the younger towards the bar, exchanging light hits as they ordered their shots.

 

“I’ll make sure they don’t black out, at least not so early. It’s not even 4 in the afternoon,” Jin shook his head, following the younger two.

 

“How are you doing?” Namjoon asked once the others were preoccupied in their own affairs and the noise in the bar returned to its original volume.

 

“Why is Yoongi so pissed at me?”

 

“It’s complicated,” he sighed. 

 

“Actually, it’s not and I think I can answer my own question. He’s your best friend and I’m your ex. It’d be weird if he didn’t want me dead.”

 

“He doesn’t want you dead,” he refuted.

 

“Okay, he just wants me hundreds of miles away then.”

 

Namjoon gave him a sheepish grin.

 

“Sorry?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “He has the right to blame me for hurting you. I know I did,” he looked at his shoes and prayed he wouldn’t burst into tears again in the middle of the bar.

 

“Hey,” Namjoon took Jimin’s chin in two of his long, sure fingers and raised his head again. “That’s between me and you. You don’t deserve for him to be mistreating you. I won’t permit it.”

 

“But--”

 

“You asked me before if I hated you. I don’t. I can’t. Watching you leave in that bus tore me apart. That’s the honest truth. But, your reasons were valid and I don’t hold any grudges. Besides, this isn’t the day to be dredging up the ugly parts of our past. We should be celebrating your father’s memory. Come on. Let’s get some booze and I’ll introduce you to the rest of the Sons. You may remember Jackson and Bam Bam, but I also tapped Yugyeom in.”

 

Jimin gave him a small smile.

 

“Okay.”

* * *

 

“I think we need to cut him off,” Jungkook muttered.

 

“We should have done it two beers ago,” Jin countered.

 

“His tolerance has gone to shit. He used to be able to outdrink all of us combined,” Taehyung added.

 

“Namjoon, you should take him home. Use my car. I’ll take your bike,” Jin said.

 

“No one drives my baby but me.”

 

“Shut up, idiot. I won’t harm your precious Harley. And you need to get that wild child home in one piece. How much did you drink?”

 

“Maybe three beers and two shots. Jimin stole most of my drinks. I’m fine to drive...I don’t want to be the one to tell Jimin he has to stop drinking, though.”

 

“Pussy,” Jungkook snorted, cowering under Namjoon’s sharp gaze. “S-sorry. I’ve been drinking a lot. I’m not thinking clearly, boss.”

 

“Who’s the pussy?” Taehyung asked rhetorically, dodging Jungkook’s punch.

 

“Seriously, the kid’s about to start stripping on the pool table. Is that what you want all these perverts and degenerates to see? Jimin naked and writhing against a pool cue?” 

 

Namjoon glared at Jin, but muttered an affirmative.

 

“I’ll see you all tomorrow. We’re meeting in the afternoon, don’t forget.”

  
“Yeah, yeah. Have fun with my Minnie. Make sure you’re a gentleman!” Taehyung shouted, laughing as his leader only shot him the middle finger before approaching Jimin.

 

They watched him coax the drunk blonde off the pool table and then catching him when he ended up tumbling off.

 

“Do you think Joon still…” Jin let his sentence trail off but the other two knew exactly what the unspoken question was.

 

“He never stopped loving him,” Taehyung said with complete certainty.

 

“I don’t think Jimin did either,” Jungkook said.

 

“I hope they get their second chance and that this time things work out for the best. They deserve to be happy,” Jin nodded.

 

“Fingers crossed,” Taehyung whispered.

* * *

 

 

“Jimin, stop jumping please. You’re going to crash into a wall or, worse, make yourself puke. I do not want to see that,” Namjoon pulled a face at the idea.

 

He had managed to get Jimin into the passenger seat of Jin’s car with little hassle and he was now leading him through his house toward the bedroom, but Jimin was making it nearly impossible by bouncing in place and threatening to bowl over at any second.

 

“I’m jumping for joy, Joonie!” Jimin squealed and Namjoon’s heart ached at the blissful expression of an intoxicated Jimin.

 

He looked so beautiful, free from the burden of his responsibilities, doubts, and stresses. His cheeks were flushed, his pretty brown eyes seeming to glimmer, and his plush lips were stretched in a dopey grin. Seeing that much loveliness and hearing Jimin use his signature nickname for him was stirring his emotions in ways he had been trying to avoid. 

 

“I’m glad you’re happy,  but I’m trying to get you to bed without a broken limb. You’re extremely clumsy when you’re drunk. It’s like Bambi trying to take his first steps.”

 

“You’re funny, Joonie,” he giggled, stopping his bunny hops to poke him in the nose.

 

“Thanks, Jimin. Maybe I’ll look into becoming a comedian,” he smiled, furrowing his brow when Jimin suddenly pouted and pushed him away, crossing his arms and seeming like he was ready to throw a tantrum. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t call me Jimin!”

 

“That’s your name,” Namjoon reminded him, confused as to where Jimin’s thoughts were.

 

“For everyone else to use, yeah. Not you, Joonie. You’re different,” he lowered his voice, fidgeting with his little hands like he were nervous.

 

And Namjoon understood what Jimin was asking for. He pulled Jimin back to lean on him and smiled.

 

“Chim,” he whispered.

 

Jimin’s head lifted, gracing Namjoon with a mile-long grin that matched his eye-smile, chubby cheeks displayed to a level of unbearable adorableness.

 

“Correct!” he praised and Namjoon laughed softly.

 

“Okay, Chim, let’s get you to bed now. It’s been an exhausting day and tomorrow you’re looking at a serious hangover. Lucky you it’s only Saturday and you have time to recover before the week starts. I hear you’re the newest pediatric resident at St. Thomas.”

 

“Yeah, that’s me! I help with babies! Oh, Joonie, I love babies. They’re so tiny and delicate and--and cute! So cute.”

 

“Hmm, reminds me of you. Tiny, delicate, and cute.  _ So  _ cute,” Namjoon used his own words and Jimin blushed.

 

“I’m not cute.”

 

“You’re absolutely precious.”   
  


  
“Stop it,” Jimin whined, pushing away from Namjoon again. “You don’t mean that.”

 

“Why would you say that?”

 

Jimin chose that moment to turn his back on him and stomp into his bedroom, throwing himself face-down on the bed. Namjoon sighed and followed after him. Jimin turned into a pouty toddler when he was drunk and it could be as frustrating as it was cute.

 

“Go ‘way,” Jimin mumbled into his pillow.

 

“You want me to leave?” 

 

Namjoon waited for a minute but at the lack of response, he resigned himself to being kicked out and turned to leave. He didn’t get more than one step into the living room when tiny hands were clutching at his leather jacket, pulling him back.

 

“Don’t go,” Jimin begged.

 

“You told me to leave, Chim. I was only doing what you asked.”

 

“Stay. Stay with me, Joonie. Please.”

 

“Okay. Okay, don’t worry. I won’t leave you. Let’s go to bed, though. I want you to get the rest you need,” he led Jimin back to the bed, helping him take off his clothes until he was in his boxers. “I’ll find some pajamas for you.”

  
  
“Noooooo,” he whined. “I’m sleeping like this. It’s sleepy time now, Joonie. Come on,” he reached out for him and Namjoon chuckled, stepping away from the closet.

 

Jimin must have remembered that he had Namjoon wrapped around his little finger. It was hard to refuse him anything. 

 

“Let me get more comfortable then so we can sleep,” Namjoon said before taking off his jacket and hanging it on the desk chair.

 

He removed his boots and socks and slid his tight jeans off alongside them, leaving him in dark briefs. He turned off the lights and slipped under the covers. He was prepared to leave ample room between them, but Jimin was having none of that. He rolled right over and wrapped himself around Namjoon, intertwining their legs and putting his head on Namjoon’s chest so he could hug him with one arm.

 

“You’re like a koala bear, you know that?” Namjoon joked, hearing Jimin’s hum of agreement.

 

“Joonie?”

 

“Chim, I turned the lights off. It’s sleepy time, remember?”

 

“Joonie, I need to ask you something.”

 

He detected the seriousness in the younger’s tone.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Are you with Jackson?”

  
  
“What? No. What makes you think we’re together?”

 

“He was always after you in high school and he’s in SAMCRO now. I was just wondering…”

 

“Nothing’s ever happened between us. He may have initiated a few things, but I put a stop to them. We’re just friends.”

 

“Oh...is there anyone else?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh,” he repeated, falling silent.

 

“Why did you want to know?” Namjoon asked when nothing else came from the blonde tucked into his chest.

 

“Um, no reason.”

 

“Chim,” he prompted.

 

“Joonie, don’t make me say it,” he whined.

 

“I can feel your pout, but you aren’t getting your way right now. I answered your question. It’s only fair that you answer mine.”

 

“Ugh,” he groaned. “You’re a meanie.”   
  


  
“So I’ve heard,” he snorted. “I’m waiting, Chim.”

 

“Fine! I asked because...Because, um, I-I didn’t want there to be anyone else. I wanted to be sure.”

 

“About?”

 

Jimin took a deep breath.

 

“About whether or not you still loved me.”

 

Namjoon tensed up at the statement, which Jimin could clearly feel from where he lay.

 

“And what’s the final verdict, huh?” Namjoon asked. 

 

Jimin lifted his head, able to meet Namjoon’s eyes through the moonlight filtering through his bedroom window.   
  


  
“You still love me,” he murmured.

 

Namjoon didn’t bother denying it.

 

“Does that bother you?” he asked instead.

 

“No,” Jimin shook his head. “Because I still love you, Joonie.”

 

Namjoon’s breath stopped and his heart jumped in his chest. Jimin yawned loudly and his head dropped back on Namjoon’s bare chest.

 

“Sleepy time,” he mumbled. 

 

“You drop an L-word bomb on me and now you’re knocking out? You have the worst timing,” he grumbled more to himself than Jimin.

 

“Night, night, Joonie. Love you lots,” he said and then he was snoring softly.

 

Namjoon sighed, adjusting Jimin so his neck wasn’t strained and he was tucked into his neck, cradled by Namjoon’s long arms.

 

“Good night, Chim. I love you too.”

 

They’d have to have a longer conversation in the morning about, well, everything, but the most important thing had been said. They were still in love and they had grown up. They weren’t the same crazy teenagers who wanted to set the world on fire so they could watch it burn. Jimin had his career now and Namjoon had taken over SAMCRO with a revolution, taking the organization in a new direction, a better one. 

 

There was hope for them. This time, they wouldn’t let  _ anything _ come between them.


End file.
